1-580 CE
From 1 to 580 CE, the Kartlians were mountain-dwellers of the Caucasus who accepted Christ before Constantine and built stone churches while Rome still debated doctrine. From their fortress-valleys between Persia and Rome, they guarded the faith that would define Georgian identity for two millennia.
The Kartlians were the people of Kartli, the heartland of what Greeks and Romans called Iberia — not the distant peninsula, but a mountain kingdom wedged between the Black Sea and the Caspian, where the Caucasus Mountains funneled all traffic between steppe and civilization through narrow passes. They spoke a Kartvelian tongue unrelated to any neighboring language family, built fortresses on peaks that seemed to touch the clouds, and cultivated vines on terraced slopes where snow lingered into spring. Persians knew them as stubborn vassals; Romans considered them useful buffers; both learned that conquering Kartli was far easier than holding it.
What transformed the Kartlians from regional players into historical significance was their embrace of Christianity. Around 337 CE — perhaps even earlier than Armenia's better-documented conversion — King Mirian III accepted baptism through the influence of a captive woman named Nino, later Saint Nino. This made Kartli one of the first kingdoms in the world to adopt Christianity as state religion, a decision that would shape Georgian identity through centuries of invasion, occupation, and near-annihilation.
Kartli occupied the upper Mtkvari River valley, a landscape of dramatic contrasts: fertile lowlands where the river widened, forested slopes climbing toward alpine meadows, and bare peaks marking the borders of the habitable world. The capital Mtskheta sat where the Aragvi River joined the Mtkvari, controlling routes north through the Caucasus passes and south toward Armenia and Persia. Here stood the royal palace and, after conversion, the great cathedral of Svetitskhoveli, built over the spot where tradition held that Christ's robe lay buried.
Kartlian society was agricultural at its base — grain, wine, and fruit from the valleys; sheep and cattle from the highlands — but its character was shaped by geography that demanded fortification. Every noble family maintained a fortress; every village knew which heights to flee to when invaders came. The Kartlians were not primarily warriors, but they were survivors, people who had learned over centuries that the great empires would come, take what they wanted, and eventually leave, while the mountains remained. Patience and faith became national virtues.
Kartlian military power was defensive by necessity. They could not field armies to match Persian hosts or Roman legions, but they could make conquest so costly that empires preferred alliance to subjugation. Mountain fortresses controlled the passes; guerrilla resistance bled occupying forces; diplomatic flexibility — submitting when necessary, rebelling when opportunity arose — preserved autonomy through centuries of nominal vassalage. The Kartlians became masters of the possible, knowing exactly how far they could push before provoking crushing retaliation.
Their cavalry, though limited in numbers, earned respect from both Persian and Roman observers. Kartlian nobles fought armored and mounted, combining Persian-influenced heavy cavalry tactics with mountain mobility. They served as mercenaries and allies in the endless wars between Rome and Persia, playing both sides with skill born of vulnerability. Neither empire could afford to let the other control the Caucasus passes completely, and the Kartlians exploited this strategic importance to maintain a degree of independence that their military strength alone could never have secured.
Before Christianity, the Kartlians worshipped a pantheon that blended Iranian influences with indigenous traditions — Armazi the moon-god stood supreme, alongside deities of fertility, war, and the natural forces that shaped mountain life. Sacred groves and hilltop shrines dotted the landscape; priests interpreted omens and conducted sacrifices. Conversion did not erase these patterns entirely: Christian saints absorbed functions of older gods, and sacred sites received churches built atop pagan foundations. The Kartlians became Christian with fervor, but their Christianity carried distinctive local coloring.
The church became inseparable from Kartlian identity. Monasteries preserved literacy and learning through periods when political structures collapsed. The autocephalous Georgian church — answering to no patriarch in Constantinople or elsewhere — embodied national independence even when kings bowed to foreign overlords. Clergy mediated disputes, educated nobles' children, and maintained the chronicles that preserved collective memory. To be Kartlian increasingly meant to be Christian, and this fusion of faith and identity would carry the nation through centuries of Islamic pressure.
Kartli's history was shaped by its position between empires. Rome established a protectorate in the first century CE; Sasanian Persia imposed tighter control from the third century onward. The Kartlians navigated between these powers, sometimes playing them against each other, sometimes suffering when one achieved temporary dominance. Persian occupation grew heavier after 363 CE, when Rome ceded influence, and by 580 the Sasanians had abolished the Iberian monarchy entirely, ruling through governors. Yet even then, Kartlian nobles maintained their estates, their fortresses, and their faith.
The Iberian kingdom's end was not the Kartlians' end. They would reemerge under new dynasties, eventually unifying the Georgian lands into a medieval kingdom that reached its golden age in the twelfth century. The early centuries had forged something durable: a Christian identity anchored in specific landscape, a tradition of stubborn survival, and institutions — especially the church — that could preserve continuity through political collapse. Modern Georgia traces its roots to these mountain valleys where Nino preached and Mirian built his first church, where being Kartlian became inseparable from being Christian.
In Glory of Civilizations, the Kartlians embody a people whose faith was both shield and sword. The influence bonus in religious communities of your faith reflects how Kartlian identity spread through Christian networks — churches and monasteries extending Kartlian presence beyond fortified borders. The ability to accumulate faith cubes from drawn white cubes represents a society that found divine providence even in apparent randomness, every fortunate outcome confirming heaven's favor.
Using faith cubes in battle — or sacrificing all faith for certainty — captures the Kartlian fusion of spiritual conviction with military necessity. Controlling provinces through religious communities rather than cities reflects how Kartlian influence often preceded political control, monasteries and churches establishing presence in lands not yet under royal authority.
Yes. You have +1 influence in every religious community of your religion, regardless of who controls that community. Control and influence bonus are separate — you benefit from being co-religionists even in communities dominated by other players.
Yes. Whenever you draw white cubes from the bag for any reason — including spreading religion — you may transfer them to your religion card (up to your faith cube limit). This means faith cubes you put in the bag can effectively return as faith cubes if drawn.
If you have the most influence in a province and there is a religious community of your religion there, you control that province even without a City or Castle. This controlled province grants all normal benefits: glory and coins during the achievement phase, and it counts as yours for various achievements and abilities.
From your supply. You discard all your faith cubes (minimum 1), then take 1 cube of your color from your supply and add it to the battle bag.